


dealt cards

by jsnoopy



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta, Mutual Pining, Phone Sex, Roommates, i guess, sicheng leaves yuta behind and yuta withdraws but jungwoo causes feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 08:54:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19169923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsnoopy/pseuds/jsnoopy
Summary: The first time Yuta calls Jungwoo the wrong name, it’s completely innocent. It's the times after that which make Yuta realize he may have a problem.





	dealt cards

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written anything in a long time, please be gentle

The first time Yuta calls Jungwoo the wrong name, it’s completely innocent. He’s been trying to study for the past hour, but his attention keeps being drawn to his roommate, who is talking on the phone in what he thinks is supposed to be a quiet tone.

Jungwoo’s pitch is soft to begin with, at least when he’s calm, but the voices he uses when telling a story and the occasional cackle that rips out of his mouth without warning are sounds that are hard to ignore.

The due date for Yuta’s research paper looms over him. There’s a pressure behind his eyes and he keeps leaning back in his chair to rub them vigorously. Maybe the headache is what clouds his judgement, but when Jungwoo starts in on another tale about his TA that involves that weird, lilting baby voice he likes to use sometimes, Yuta breaks.

He twists in his chair to face him, snaps, “Sicheng, can you be quiet, please?”

The surprise on Jungwoo’s face matches the immediate horror rising up Yuta’s throat. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly so dry, and stammers out, “I mean, ah, Jungwoo-”

“Sorry,” Jungwoo says, shifting off his bed. He presses his phone against his shoulder to muffle his words and presumably save Yuta any further embarrassment. “I’ll go outside.”

It doesn’t help when he goes. The silence in the room fills with Yuta’s shame and with the nudging memory of the voice of the boy that left.

 

The second time, it’s not so innocent.

Yuta slips between the hot, sweaty bodies of his classmates as he scans the room. He’s only had a few drinks so far, all encouraged by Johnny Seo, who’d chanted  _ chug! Chug! Chug!   _ until Yuta had downed them in a few gulps. So although it hasn’t seemed like much, the quick consumption of the alcohol makes him slightly unsteady on his feet, makes him press his hands forward into every passing person’s back — half so they’ll know he’s there, and half to reassure himself that he can still stand up straight. 

   Usually Yuta wouldn’t be out on a Thursday night. He still has an eleven o’clock lab on Fridays. But Mark had begged him to come, spamming him with texts until Yuta finally relented, if only to silence him so he could finish rewriting his notes. He’d figured  _ fine, I’ll show my face for an hour and get home early enough to shower.  _

It was a stupid idea to begin with. He knew he was lying to himself even as he got dressed to leave. No one who cared so little about going out would put as much effort into looking good as he did. And if it wasn’t too vain to say, he would admit aloud that he  _ does _ look good. 

It didn’t matter. Mark abandoned him in the company of Johnny and Ten fifteen minutes after he’d arrived, which never meant anything good. This time Ten placed his hand on the back of Yuta’s neck and gave him a pitying look that transformed into a smile when Johnny pressed a shot glass into Yuta’s hand. Yuta didn’t want to think about the reason behind that look. He knew what it was, he just didn’t want to think about it. So he downed the shot and poured another as Johnny cheered.

“Sorry,” Yuta murmurs as he slips between a pair of friends that look vaguely recognizable. The crowd sways around him, music thumps in his ears, and it does nothing to help him figure out which way is up and which is down.  _ Where the hell is Mark? _

“Yuta, hey!”

Yuta hears Jungwoo before he sees him. The lilting timbre of his name passing between pleased, pink lips — no one else says his name like that. No one else says  _ anything _ the way Jungwoo does, at once gentle and mischievous. 

“Hi, roomie,” Jungwoo says, his voice raised to be heard over the music. He rests his hand on Yuta’s shoulder, tilting his head down to speak directly into his ear. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight!”

“Mark made me,” Yuta says. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t really care if his explanation is lost to the noise of the room. He can’t force himself to meet Jungwoo’s gaze, even as his roommate squeezes his shoulder. “Then he disappeared."

Yuta still doesn’t know Jungwoo very well. They’d only started rooming together this semester, after his last roommate transferred. Sicheng seems happier now, at least that was the impression his Instagram profile gave, and Yuta has been trying not to let that burn him. 

He’d known Jungwoo adjacent to Mark — they were both in the humanities so they could often be found not studying in one of the larger libraries, wherever they could tuck themselves between the stacks and pretend they didn’t know the sun was going down and rising again. It worked out for Jungwoo better, considering how often his roommate sexiled him to the common area of the dorm. Mark had been the one to suggest they room together when Sicheng moved out.

Yuta almost wanted to leave the other side of the room empty, but he knew they’d just place a random exchange student with him if he didn’t find someone himself. So he let Jungwoo fill out the paperwork and watched him hang lights on their walls, pretending he was doing homework so he wouldn’t be asked to help, pretending he could stomach different colored sheets on Sicheng’s bed. 

It isn’t so bad now. They even have a few inside jokes. 

“Mark! Mark Lee! Oh, I think I saw him!” Jungwoo says loudly. He leans up onto his toes, pressing down on Yuta’s shoulder to balance himself as he looks around the room. The dim lights of the house bounce off the sweat on his forehead, sparkle in his wandering eyes as he searches the room. The muscles in his neck stand up as he twists his head to the side. 

Yuta’s gaze follows the line of his jugular into the collar of his shirt, where his neck dips to the curve of his clavicle. Jungwoo’s thumb is digging into Yuta’s shoulder. The room feels a little warmer than it did five minutes ago. 

“Ah, I think I can find him myself,” Yuta says suddenly. 

“Maybe he’s upstairs,” Jungwoo suggests, as if he hadn't heard him. He slides his hand down Yuta’s arm to circle his fingers around his wrist, and slips through the crowd again, leading the way. 

Jungwoo’s a little bigger than him, leaving easy gaps between others for Yuta to slip through, but he still apologizes for the pushy guidance of the other man, offering a wide if unnatural smile to a pair of girls who huff a little as Jungwoo bumps into their shoulders, sloshing their drinks nearly out of their cups. 

“Be careful,” Yuta tsks. 

Jungwoo stops and turns his head to look down at him, raising his eyebrows innocently. Yuta notes the amused smile that flashes over his face before it’s gone. “I’m always careful.”

Yuta believes him. 

He follows Jungwoo up the stairs he hadn’t noticed before. His stomach flips when Jungwoo’s hand slips down his arm, their fingers brushing together, and pushes aside his strange disappointment when Jungwoo lets go of him entirely.

“I’m a Mark magnet,” Jungwoo says, laughing, as he leads Yuta into a bedroom.

For sure, there’s Mark, sitting between Taeyong and Doyoung as Jaehyun pours something into shot glasses lined up on the nightstand. Mark appears to be in the middle of beatboxing for Taeyong’s dazed freestyle, but abandons their combined artistic endeavor to crow loudly as Jungwoo drapes himself over Doyoung’s lap, wrapping his arms around Mark’s shoulders and tucking his face into his neck. Doyoung gets a face full of blond hair on the way, but doesn’t even look mildly put out.

“I think Mark’s a Jungwoo magnet,” Jaehyun teases, having overheard. He smiles at Yuta, raising his closed hand to fist bump him, which Yuta does. 

He should have known they’d all be there -- that’s why Mark would have gone, why he would have invited him. Johnny and Ten downstairs were just the beginning. Clearly Mark Lee is trying to trap him into socializing. 

Yuta would hate to admit it, but there’s a point there, somewhere. Since Sicheng left, he’s drawn away from mostly everyone. He’s kept Mark around because he’s persistent, and unavoidable.

Taeyong smiles at him, but doesn’t move to greet him, complaining instead about Mark ditching their performance. Taeyong’s someone Yuta tries not to feel too bad about -- sometimes he’ll bring Taeyong a coffee to the lecture they still share, just to try to make up for the handful of unanswered texts Taeyong sent him over winter break. 

“I told you I could find him,” Jungwoo says proudly, taking one of the shot glasses Jaehyun offers them. Yuta watches him swallow it, staring at the bob of his Adam’s apple as the drink is poured easily down his throat. Jaehyun turns and presses one into Yuta’s hand as well. 

It’s not really a question of whether he should drink more or not -- he downs it without hesitation.

It still takes more for Yuta to loosen up around his former group of friends, but Mark encourages him with intensity to rival Ten’s, and there’s always someone up for another shot, if only to make him happy. 

It’s hard to say how long it takes, but Yuta ends up sitting with his back against the headboard of the bed, Jungwoo laying with his head resting on his thigh. 

“You’re all the worst!” Donghyuck whines, pushing the door open too hard as he finds them holed up in the room. It slams against the wall with a loud bang, and Jungwoo jumps a little.

Yuta’s laughter joins the rest of them even as his fingers find the back of Jungwoo’s neck, grazing over his skin in small circles. Jungwoo relaxes again, his head heavier on Yuta’s thigh than before. He reaches back after a few minutes, grabbing Yuta’s fingers. He squeezes them a few times, in time with the beat of the song Jaehyun was thrilled to play for them. Then he lets go. Just like that. 

Yuta exhales, slow and steady. Unaffected -- that’s the goal.

“We should get out of here, I’m starving,” Donghyuck whines, even though he’s just arrived. 

Mark squawks out a weak protest, flapping his hands at him, and Donghyuck pouts. Taeyong takes his hand between both of his own, petting it comfortingly.

“I agree with Hyuck,” Jaehyun decides. “Tacos? Tacos, anyone?”

Food would be nice, but so would sleep. In either case, Yuta feels reluctant to leave the warm weight of his roommate laying on him. It’s been a while since he’s had any physical connection, which is absolutely his own fault considering the few months he’s spent ducking down hallways to avoid running into Taeyong or Johnny when they get out of their lectures. He used to get his daily quota of hugs from the two, but now he just gets lost going out of his way not to see them. They’re too nice, is the problem. He didn’t want to see that pitiful look Johnny gave him just a few hours ago when he’d first arrived, trailing behind Mark.

Letting Jungwoo pick at the loose threads of his jeans on this strangers’ bed is grounding. He feels real.

“Sushi!” Donghyuck exclaims.

“Sushi,” Jungwoo repeats quietly, his already small voice muffled by his hand as he tugs on his lower lip. Yuta peers down at him, smiling a little.

“Sushi sounds good,” Yuta agrees before he can stop himself. Jungwoo looks up at him, a smile to match Yuta’s own spreading over his lips.

“Whatever Yuta wants, Yuta gets!” Mark says, too loudly, as he tugs on Jungwoo’s ankles, pulling him down the bed with only his friend’s laughter as a veil of protest. 

Yuta discovers that Jungwoo  _ glows _ under streetlights. He’s like an angel.

Jungwoo wants to hold his hand. Yuta notices this after a few blocks, when his roommate brushes his fingers over Yuta’s wrist for the fourth time since they’ve left the party. They’re walking in the middle of their group, Donghyuck and Doyoung bickering in the lead while Mark, Taeyong and Jaehyun trail behind, in their own world as they cackled about something Yuta missed. 

Jungwoo walks by his side, though, humming quietly to himself and looking up and down the street with curious eyes. Not that Yuta has been observing him  _ that _ closely, but he appreciates the calm energy radiating off of him. Usually Yuta thinks of him as the opposite of calm, but maybe he hadn’t been paying close enough attention. 

Jungwoo’s fingers bump into Yuta’s, his knuckles dragging over the back of Yuta’s hand. Yuta lets him try. 

His head still feels a little fuzzy, but it makes him feel like he didn’t have to worry so much. He can’t help but continue thinking logically even after a few drinks, but he tries hard to squash his rationality for the night.

They end up buying pizza anyway. When they find a pizza shop still open after a few blocks, the smell is enough for Donghyuck and Jungwoo both to forget about their sushi mission, although Jungwoo keeps telling everyone that he’s still up for more food, always interested in more food. He finishes his slice in the time it takes Yuta to blink.

“Hungry?” Yuta teases, forgetting himself enough to slip his arm around Jungwoo’s waist as they wait for Mark, who ran back inside the restaurant to buy a drink. “I’ll buy you another one.”

Jungwoo leans into him, pouting those cute pink lips, and shakes his head. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Yuta asks, amused..

Jungwoo nods, despite his close attention to Yuta’s pizza in his other hand. Yuta offers it to Jungwoo, who only whines, shaking his head again.

“C’mon,” Yuta laughs, holding it up to Jungwoo’s nose teasingly.

He’s honest in his offering, but still surprised when Jungwoo takes a bite from the slice in his hand, instead of taking it himself. Warmth rushes through Yuta’s chest as he watches him.

“You’re disgusting,” Donghyuck says.

Yuta’s gaze jerks over to the boy, a little startled that anyone had been watching them. Beside Donghyuck, Doyoung cringes, his lips pulled back in a tight smile as he looks away from them. Jungwoo leans more heavily into Yuta’s side in response to the others. It makes Yuta want to laugh, so he does.

“Don’t be mean,” Yuta says, letting Jungwoo take the pizza out of his hand now. “Growing boys need food.”

“Jungwoo’s fully grown,” Donghyuck says.

“Don’t be bullies,” Jungwoo pouts, resting his head on Yuta’s shoulder. Jungwoo is a little taller than him, so Yuta can see him hunching his own shoulders in order to fit against him. It must not be that comfortable.

“Bullies!” Donghyuck shouts. Obviously the drinks Mark snuck him behind Jaehyun and Taeyong’s backs were hitting a little harder.

Yuta grimaces, squeezing Jungwoo’s hip. “Don’t worry, Sichengie, we can just go home if they want to be mean.”

He hears it come out of his mouth but can do little to stop it. It’s already been said. He looks down at his feet as the rest of them fall silent, his ears burning at Donghyuck’s nervous sounding chuckle. Jungwoo’s  gone still beside him, but hasn’t pulled away yet. Yuta doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

The door to the restaurant chimes in the silence as Mark rejoins them. “Johnny text me! He said we can go to Ten’s place if we want!”

A chance to escape. Great.

“I have to finish a lab,” Yuta says, before Mark can hone in on the unease hanging in the air. “Next time.”

“Aw, man, seriously? C’mon,” Mark whines, but Yuta has stepped back from Jungwoo already.

He can’t look at him, doesn’t want to look at any of them, but smiles anyway, raising his face to stare over the tops of their heads as he backs away. “See you around!”

“Yuta!” Mark calls after him. “Dude, what the fuck?!”

Yuta imagines Taeyong grabbing Mark’s arm to hold him back from following him, because usually Mark would, but this time Yuta is left alone. He walks home in silence, the noise in his head more than enough.

  
  


Yuta maybe could have ignore it, brushed it off as the effect of alcohol, but the third time makes it a real problem. 

Sicheng replies to a few of his Instagram stories. They talk, catch up. They do what they do best. Luckily, Yuta has the room to himself that afternoon. 

“One more, babe,” Sicheng murmurs in his ear. 

Yuta tries not to focus on the usual phone sounds that filter Sicheng’s voice, doesn’t want to think about how he’s so far away, and presses another finger past his rim to join the first two, squeezing around his knuckles. He gasps a little, a shiver racing up his spine as he adjusts to the feeling. It’s been a few months since he’s opened himself up like this, then for some guy he’d met at a bar to fuck him into the mattress. Now, he’s letting his mind wander, imagining Sicheng’s fingers fucking him instead. 

“Good? You do it?” Sicheng murmurs. 

Yuta exhales slowly, nodding a little. His forehead’s pressed into his pillow, neck getting sore from the position he’s put himself in, but he always loved pushing his ass up like this for Sicheng, putting on a show for him. It doesn’t matter now that he’s not even in the room, not even in the country — old habits. 

“Feels good,” Yuta mumbles. He bites his lip hard as he moves his fingers, thighs trembling from a combination of the effort of keeping himself upright and the comforting praise Sicheng murmurs in his ear. 

If Sicheng were here he’d probably keep him  like this, shaking, on his knees, balanced on his forearms. His cock aches to be touched. Yuta exhales heavily, and glances at the door. 

Closed. Locked. Jungwoo won’t be back for hours.  _ Jungwoo _ . 

Yuta moans brokenly, dropping his phone onto his pillow. He lets his hips dip down to the mattress, snaking his now free hand between his body and the bed to touch himself.

“You sound so good, Yuta,” Sicheng says faintly through the phone. Yuta moans louder, half for the praise, half out of desperation for  _ more. _ He wishes Sicheng were here. 

His half-lidded gaze falls on the empty bed at the other side of the room. Sicheng used to make faces at him when he was being needy, would roll his eyes at Yuta’s insistence for attention. Now he’s  _ gone _ , and Jungwoo’s bedsheets are bunched to one side of the bed, where he’d pushed them aside in his rush to get to his 8 am. 

_ Jungwoo _ . Yuta gasps as his fingers brush the sensitive spot inside him. Jungwoo’s broad shoulders float through his imagination as he tries to refocus on Sicheng’s voice, groaning through the tiny speaker. He can almost imagine what it would be like to be pressed down into the mattress by his new roommate, feel his warm hands push firmly against the small of his back. Jungwoo might fingerfuck him like this, or turn him over to see Yuta’s expression when he’s desperately hard like this. Jungwoo seems like the type to want to make eye contact while he fucks. He might keep his fingers inside him as he goes down on him, soft blond hair falling into his eyes as he peers up at Yuta for approval. 

“Fuck,” Yuta groans, grinding his hips down against his mattress, seeking friction other than his hand as he drifts farther into his fantasy. “Fuck, Ju-“

“Just like that, baby,” Sicheng groans. 

Yuta falls apart, his vision swimming as he comes hard onto his sheets, hips stuttering as he rocks back on his fingers.

It takes a few moments for Yuta to start gaining his senses again, but it doesn’t take long for him to feel shame and guilt rushing low to his gut, a flush creeping up his cheeks. He picks up the phone from where he’s dropped it, voice low as he speaks again. “Hey. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Sicheng murmurs, sounding warm and sated. “Just like old times.”

“Yeah,” Yuta murmurs, shifting slowly off his bed. He holds the phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulls on his discarded sweatpants. “How’s the new school?”

“I’ve actually gotta go,” Sicheng says almost as soon as Yuta’s managed his own words. 

“Okay,” Yuta says. “Have a good day.”

“You, too,” Sicheng murmurs, and then he’s gone. 

Yuta stands beside his bed, looking down at the dark, wet pool of come that’s drying on his sheets. He tugs the sheet gently off one corner of the mattress, then hard, so it snaps off the opposite side, and rolls it into a tight ball under his arm. He’d been meaning to do laundry anyway. 

  
  


“I don’t know, dude, there’s no way I’m gonna get this paper done in time,” Mark groans, leaning back in his seat. The chair tips back onto its back legs. “I just have, like, no motivation at all, like, all my energy just went  _ zap _ ! And it’s all gone now. Someone sucked the energy out of me.”

“Literally, do you think, or…?” Yuta murmurs, picking at his fries. Mark guffaws in answer.

There’s a low hum of sound around them in the dining hall, but for once Yuta can’t be bothered to listen in on anyone else’s conversations. He has enough going on in his own mind to bother with other people’s petty drama. Jungwoo had been so nice recently —  _ really _ nice, nicer than usual, but it just made Yuta feel worse about getting off to the thought of him. Jungwoo was too precious to deserve Yuta coming over the thought of him blowing him, even though there seemed to be a constant mischievous twinkle in Jungwoo’s eyes, even when he was just getting out of bed and caught Yuta staring at him over his Bio notes.

“Can I ask you something?” Yuta asks before he can stop himself. He wants to take it back immediately, but Mark already looks too curious, and if he doesn’t ask now then Mark will just keep asking him until he forgets. He can’t let Mark ask him in front of anyone else -- that would be even more humiliating, especially after his outburst after the party. 

He’s been lucky so far. Mark hasn’t brought it up yet, but he might now that Yuta’s considering this conversation at all.

“Mm, yeah, what’s up?” Mark hums, leaning in. He rests his elbows on the table, tilting his head, and Yuta has to look over his shoulder to avoid blushing.

“Do you think that Jungwoo…likes living with me?” Yuta manages after a moment.

Mark laughs.  _ Loudly _ . He sits back again, grinning. “What? Dude, I thought we were being serious!”

“I’m serious,” Yuta says. He wipes his hands on his napkin, his appetite completely ruined. “I’m so serious, Mark. Seriously.”

“Seriously?” Mark laughs out again. “Yeah, of course he does! What wouldn’t he like about it?”

Yuta shrugs, crossing his arms as he sits back in his seat as well. “I don’t know. Forget I asked, it’s stupid.”

“Aw, are you insecure about your roommate qualities?” Mark coos. 

“Mark.”

“Chillax, dude,” Mark says, waving his hand in the air dismissively. “You’re cool, I swear. Jungwoo thinks you’re cool, too. He talks about you a lot.”

Oh. He does? Yuta doesn’t want to seem too interested, so he keeps his face as neutral as possible, pursing his lips a little. He hopes his eyes say, ‘go on,’ and supposes they do, because Mark smiles a little more. 

“Like, always bringing up funny shit you say and whatever,” Mark continues after a beat, amused, “he likes your hair, too, and always says, like, ‘bro, he’s got the best smile.’ He’s totally jealous.”

Yuta can’t imagine that Jungwoo would ever say ‘bro’ unironically, but it’s oddly...soothing to hear, even if it does make his heart race a little to think about Jungwoo even  _ noticing _ his smile. It’s at least nicer than hearing that Jungwoo’s spoken about his little slip ups.

“-and also you’re totally neat and not, like, um, fuckin’ dirty and gross and whatever. What’s not to like?”

“What’s not to like about what?” Jungwoo asks behind Yuta, his voice light and breathy, as if he just ran up a flight of stairs. 

Yuta sits up straight, startled and desperately hoping Jungwoo hadn’t heard any of their conversation. He’s pretty sure Mark would’ve warned him with, like, a wink or something, but Mark thinks everything’s a joke, so it’s possible he wouldn’t have batted an eye at Jungwoo hovering behind Yuta while Yuta questioned his feelings. 

Mark clicks his tongue behind his teeth, grinning up at his friend, and answers, “Dining hall food. Food is food, am I right or am I right?”

Okay. Maybe Yuta is a bigger asshole than he thought. 

“That’s what I always say!” Jungwoo says, with that voice that will most likely invade Yuta’s thoughts again later. He sets a notebook in front of Yuta, his arms briefly framing Yuta’s body before he moves again to sit beside him. “I brought your Biology notes. Sorry if- I mean, I noticed that you left them, and I know you have an exam coming up so I didn’t want you missing them and freaking out.”

Yuta stares at the notebook for a moment before he turns his head to look at Jungwoo, who appears to nearly flush under his gaze. 

Jungwoo looks away, feigning a casual tone Yuta can hear right through. “Sorry if I overstepped.”

“It’s okay,” Yuta murmurs, mystified, “thanks.”

“Oh,” Jungwoo breathes, his expression visibly brightening. “It’s no problem! You shouldn’t be stressed at a time like this!”

This is  _ too much _ . Yuta watches Jungwoo turn his smile to Mark as their friend says something to change the subject, most likely complaining about his paper again. Yuta  _ could _ chime in and point out that Mark could have finished it by now if he didn’t go out so much, or if he spent as much time working on it as he did complaining about it, but there’s something about the idea of Jungwoo’s expression shifting into something like disappointment that’s unbearable to him. 

He’s not sure he could survive Jungwoo thinking that he’s any more of a dick than he’s already proven to be, with the way he’s outright avoided him and,  _ god, _ the times he’s called him  _ Sicheng _ , as if Jungwoo meant nothing more to him than a bodily replacement of the boy who live in their room before. He wonders if Jungwoo knows how sick the thought of Sicheng makes him now — he wonders if he’s even noticed Yuta’s problem. 

“So?” Mark prompts.

Yuta tears his gaze away from Jungwoo’s profile. Jungwoo, who looks diligently back at Mark as he speaks, is either entirely oblivious or kindly playing dumb to Yuta straight up staring at his face. 

“So what?” Yuta asks.

“Are you free tonight?” Mark asks slowly, pointing his fork at Jungwoo and then back at himself. “We’re going to study in the library, if you want to hang out.”

Jungwoo tilts his head toward Yuta again, smiling softly,  _ hopefully _ . Yuta feels the need to scream aloud.

“I’ll pass,” Yuta says. “I doubt you’re going to actually study.”

“Oh,” Jungwoo says, “I have an exam in a few days. I’ll keep Mark in line.”

Yuta hesitates, clears his throat. “Still. I have a lot to do.”

“Okay,” Jungwoo murmurs. “If you’re sure.”

“Yup,” Yuta says. He picks up the notebook Jungwoo placed in front of him, sliding it into his bag as he stands. “Hey, thanks for this. I’ve got to run, though.”

Mark leans back in his seat, tapping his fork against his lower lip as he squints up at Yuta. The faint smirk on his lips proves that he’s not nearly as dumb as people think he is — that has been proven to Yuta before — but Yuta really, really wishes he was. “Hey,” he says, pressing the tines of the fork against his skin so it dips and ridges, mimicking the smile still tugging on the corners of his mouth, “let us know if you change your mind, man. We’ll get snacks.”

“Uh huh,” Yuta says, and he doesn’t remember how he gets out of the cafeteria, just that he gets out, as fast as he can before he does something stupid like start staring at his roommate again.

  
  


Sicheng had left one week into the semester, after an abrupt acceptance from the waitlist at his dream university. He left in a whirl of excitement and neglected goodbyes, leaving Yuta to sit on the floor of their room, stunned into silence.

Taeyong had been the first one to seek him out once they all found out. Yuta can’t remember much about that day, but he remembers how tightly Taeyong held his hand, how he turned people away at the door when they asked to come in. 

Yuta walks into his afternoon lecture, a cup from the university café in each hand as he slipped behind his classmates to the seat beside Taeyong in the front of the class. 

Taeyong glances up at him once before he really recognizes him. He tilts his head toward him again, surprised, but not unkindly so.

“Hey,” Taeyong says, moving a few of his pens that had rolled over onto the table in front of Yuta.

Yuta smiles, setting both cups down between them. “Hi. I thought you might want some caffeine.”

“Tea?” Taeyong asks.

Yuta shakes his head. Taeyong must think he’s forgotten  _ everything _ about him. How could he forget the look of disgust and disbelief Taeyong shot him during their first year orientation when Yuta got tea with his breakfast? “Of course not.”

Taeyong takes the offered cup with a smile. He sips at it as he continues looking at Yuta. Yuta had nearly forgotten how  _ unnerving _ Taeyong can be when he’s quiet.

“How are you doing?” Taeyong asks, instead of accusing him of sucking up, which he is, just a little bit.

How is he? He’s okay, he supposes, apart from being a  _ mess _ . Since the party he’s been unable to keep Jungwoo out of his head, and if he isn’t thinking of Jungwoo he’s thinking of how he’s let everything become such an awkward situation. Between him and Sicheng, him and his friends, him and his roommate…he is so lucky he has Mark, he knows that, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like something is missing, something big.

Can he explain that to Taeyong without Taeyong feeling offended? Yuta has been a raging dickwad to him since the beginning of the semester. If there is any justice in the world, there is no way that Yuta deserves for the other man to actually listen and care about it.

“That bad, huh,” Taeyong says after the silence had extended between them for too long. He sets the coffee down and reaches over, resting his hand on top of Yuta’s under the table. “Do you want to talk about it later?”

“Oh,” Yuta says.

“We don’t have to,” Taeyong says, looking away as their professor walks into class. He ducks his head a little and lowers his voice as he continues: “Are you free tonight? Doyoung, Johnny, and I are going to a movie.”

Yuta falls silent again, at a loss. He’s avoided them with even more commitment after the party a few weeks ago. Was it only a few weeks? The effort he’s put into remembering all their class schedules and activities so he won’t accidentally run into them makes it seem like months. Still, it hasn’t been long enough for them to forget his embarrassing slip up, if they ever will.

“No pressure,” Taeyong adds, just before the lecture starts. He squeezes Yuta’s hand briefly before letting go.

Yuta doesn’t hear a word that comes out of their professor’s mouth for the next hour, scribbling useless, messy notes. He doesn’t wait after class to give Taeyong an answer either. Maybe he’ll feel bad about that later, but right now all he can think about is being alone, hoping maybe solitude can stop the racing beat of his heart.

  
  


One night, during their first semester, Yuta and Sicheng stayed up late watching anime and eating all the snacks that Sicheng’s parents had sent him in a heavy care package from home. They huddled between their high dorm beds, with Sicheng’s sheets weighed down on each mattress by textbooks, so it draped over them like a child’s fort. 

They hadn’t known each other for long, but Yuta was already enamored by Sicheng’s private smile, his quiet laugh. He hadn’t spoken much during their orientation, but whenever he did it was under the breath quips meant for Yuta’s ears only. Yuta had been getting used to choking on his laughter in inappropriate moments. That must have been where his fondness for his roommate began — long before they become anything else.

He remembers Sicheng talking to him about home, quiet, just a little louder than the animation. Yuta wanted to pause it, lower the volume, anything to show his complete focus and attention to the other boy, but knew it would break the flimsy trust growing between them to make any sudden movements. So he held his breath, closed his eyes when Sicheng turned his face away so that he could only hear his voice, not see the vivid flashing lights on his computer screen.

There was someone back home. A boy. There’s always a boy in those stories. Yuta didn’t know the boy’s name, but he figures it out pretty quickly when Sicheng leaves him. They figure it out, too. Yuta feels badly about his hopes that they wouldn’t, that Sicheng would come back to him — then, at least, the mess he’s in would be resolved without much confrontation. He mutes Sicheng on all his various socials so he doesn’t have to see him in love with his perfect man.

He knows too well what it’s like to be with someone who wishes he was someone else. He knows that he didn’t care, then, and hates himself for that now.

He curls up in his bed, a different bed from the years previous, and rests his laptop on his thighs. It’s been on so long that the battery burns through his sweatpants, but he leaves it, finding comfort in the uncomfortable cling of his pants to his skin as the heat makes him sweat a little. 

He pulls up a show on autopilot, too tired from finishing another busy-work lab assignment to use his brain, and settles back into his nest of pillows. As soon as Jungwoo comes back from haunting the university with Mark and his other equally excited friends, Yuta will go back to pretending that everything’s okay. For now, he’ll allow his eyes to burn and rub them until it hurts, until it stops hurting.

He’s made it into the last five episodes of _ Brotherhood _ by the time Jungwoo comes home. The lights are off -- Yuta had never bothered to get up and turn them on once the sunlight filtering through his blinds had dimmed and then vanished entirely. Jungwoo doesn’t turn them on either, stumbling a little in the dark to tug his shoes off.

Yuta lowers the brightness on his screen, not really wanting Jungwoo to see his wet eyelashes or the dark flush in his cheeks from silently crying in the dark over the past few hours.

“Hey, are you awake?” Jungwoo whispers.

“Yeah,” Yuta says, and grimaces at how it comes out — thick and heavy, his voice betraying him even without Jungwoo being able to see him. He clears his throat and repeats himself.

“Are you okay?” Jungwoo asks softly, creeping closer to Yuta’s bed. Yuta holds his breath, the only sound in the room Jungwoo’s shuffling footsteps as he tries not to trip over anything. “Yuta?”

“I’m okay,” Yuta replies, just as quietly, but Jungwoo is already climbing onto his bed. 

Yuta holds his breath, only grimacing when Jungwoo accidentally elbows him in the gut as he settles beside him, his thigh hooked over Yuta’s. The laptop is nudged off his lap by Jungwoo’s arm falling over his stomach, and Yuta clutches it in a tight grip so it doesn’t fall off the bed entirely.

Jungwoo releases a slow breath, resting his head on Yuta’s shoulder, and he smells a little off. Yuta knows Jungwoo’s cologne is more floral than that — he thinks it’s perfume, actually, but hasn’t had the guts to ask. 

“Have you been drinking?” Yuta asks, still holding the laptop in the air. 

“Do you miss him?” 

Yuta frowns. That answers his question, then. He shifts onto his side as much as he can with Jungwoo clinging to him, and sets his laptop onto his nightstand.

“Was that why you were crying?” Jungwoo asks, his voice so,  _ so  _ soft. “Because you miss him?”

Was it? Did he? Maybe, but it still feels like a punch to the gut to hear Jungwoo say it. Yuta’s worst fear for the past semester has been someone  _ noticing _ him. He hopes Jungwoo can’t feel his heart pounding right next to his head, hopes he hasn’t noticed anything else telling about Yuta’s behavior since they started living together, although he would have to be pretty dense not to.

“You can pretend that I’m him, if it makes you feel better,” Jungwoo whispers.

Yuta feels the air sucked out of the room all at once. He’s read that description of this feeling before, in some romance novel or something, but hadn’t understood the full extent of it, not until he feels the pressure on his chest, the ache in his throat like he’ll never be able to find oxygen again. It is not romantic in the slightest.

Jungwoo isn’t as affected. Yuta feels his breath puffing over his neck as Jungwoo presses his nose into Yuta’s hair.

“Jungwoo?” Yuta chokes out.

“It’s okay,” Jungwoo breathes, “I don’t mind.”

Jungwoo curls his fingers into the front of Yuta’s shirt, his fist resting on the older man’s chest. The weight of it isn’t uncomfortable. If anything, Jungwoo pressed close to Yuta’s body makes it easier to relax. Yuta doesn’t want to analyze the grounding effect that his roommate has on him, not right now, but the thoughts whizz around his head undeterred.

This is so fucked up.

“How much have you had to drink?”

Jungwoo laughs, the soft sound tickling Yuta’s ears. “Shut up.”

Yuta reaches up, tentative, and places his hand over Jungwoo’s on his chest. The younger man hums a little content sound. This is  _ so _ fucked up.

“I’m tired, Yuta,” Jungwoo says after a few minutes stretches on in the darkness. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Yuta manages with some difficulty, his voice caught in his throat still.

Jungwoo doesn’t move, although his grip on Yuta relaxes as he drifts off. Yuta isn’t sure how he’ll react to waking up in Yuta’s bed. Would it be worse if Yuta leaves him here and sleeps in Jungwoo’s bed instead? They’ll still have to face each other in the morning.

Bile creeps up his throat, his esophagus burning. There isn’t a way out of this without dying of embarrassment. While Yuta can’t see into the future, but it’s easy to see how this is all going to play out. He’s going to end up alone, again. Wouldn’t it be better if it was his choice this time?

He moves Jungwoo’s hand first, when he’s sure that he’s asleep, loosening his hold on his shirt. After that, he’s able to sit up a little and shift sideways out of his bed, careful not to bump into his nightstand in the dark.

Holding his breath, Yuta looks back down at Jungwoo in his bed. His blond hair fans out over Yuta’s pillows. He still has his jeans on, but there is no way that Yuta is going to undress him while trying to escape.

Yuta uses the dim light of his phone to find his shoes and backpack, slipping a hoodie over his head and grabbing his laptop before he creeps out of the room. For now, he can hide in the library and catch some sleep after he plans how to best avoid his roommate for the rest of the semester.

 

_ What did you guys end up doing last night? _ Yuta texts Mark on his way to class in the morning, sipping tea. 

He glances up and down between the other people on the sidewalk and his phone, anxious for Mark’s response. It doesn’t come in time, and he reluctantly slips his phone into his pocket for his lecture, pushing it out of his head for the next hour and fifteen minutes. When he looks at his messages again, he’s glad he didn’t get a response before.

_ I helped Jungwoo write love poems for you LOL _

_ KIDDING!! He snuck gin into the library LMAO _

_ u would like that though wouldn’t you ;) _

  
  


The library is nice, he usually loves the library, but he’s starting to rot. 

His original plan had been to sneak back into his dorm and shower yesterday while Jungwoo was in class, but he’d chickened out. He’d even thought of using the gym’s showers, but spotted Jaehyun and Johnny as soon as he walked into the building. 

He is going on day three in the same clothes and knows his classmates don’t appreciate the smell of his B.O. Neither does he, but there isn’t much he can do to get away from it.

At least he’d been able to study. There’s that.

Yuta leans back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling as he tries to process how his life has reached this point. 

“Mind if I sit?” 

Yuta’s neck cracks as he jerks his head forward. Across from him, Taeyong sets his backpack on the table. Damn it.

“Sure,” Yuta says. 

There’s no way that Taeyong could possibly know what Jungwoo said to him, but it feels like it when Taeyong fixes his gaze on him. The man is probably too smart for him own good. And Yuta is too smelly.

“What are you up to?”

“Um,” Yuta says, shuffling a few papers around as if he’s been deeply invested in his work and not spacing out for the past two hours. “Um. Studying.”

“For what?” Taeyong asks. “Midterms are over.”

“I have,” Yuta says, tilting his laptop screen down when Taeyong leans in to peer at it, “I have a paper.”

“Ah.”

Damn it. He knows he’s lying.

“Have you eaten?”

Yuta has avoided the dining hall to the best of his ability, but ordered food to the library at some point last night. “Yeah, some.”

“Yuta,” Taeyong says, “you need to take care of yourself.”

Yuta hasn’t been scolded in some time, but it doesn’t annoy him as much as it should. Taeyong’s concern is soothing after the strained week he’s had. Honestly, he’d love nothing more than to get cleaned up, eat, and go to bed, and he doesn’t actually have work that needs doing, but the thought of entering the four walls he shares with Jungwoo makes him feel  _ sick _ .

“Alright,” Taeyong says suddenly, standing up straight. “Get your stuff together. You’re coming home with me.”

“Um,” Yuta says, but Taeyong looks back at him, impassive, and a few minutes later Yuta follows Taeyong out of the library, his hood pulled up over his greasy hair.

Yuta chances a glance at Taeyong as they wait at the bus stop. “You know you don’t have to take care of me. I’m a grown man.”

Taeyong doesn’t look up from his phone. Yuta hopes he’s not texting any groupchat about this. “Take care of yourself then.”

Yuta catches a whiff of his pits as he scans his bus pass. So, he deserves that.

  
  


Clean, fed, and rested, but disturbed. Yuta’s emotions upon waking up in Taeyong’s bedroom are a mixed bag.

He hears voices in the apartment’s living room, but crawling out from between Taeyong’s crisp sheets and cozy blankets sounds like blasphemy. Besides, investigating would be pointless. It’s just Taeyong and Johnny, his roommate. There might be a few other voices in the mix, but Yuta is too exhausted to try to distinguish between them.

He doesn’t even move when he hears Taeyong’s door open, or when he feels the dip of weight on the mattress behind him as someone lays down, keeping his eyes closed.

“Dude,” Mark says, “you’re so dumb.”

“You shouldn’t call people dumb,” Yuta mumbles, the blanket held up to his mouth still, just brushing his nose. “It’s rude.”

“You’re rude,” Mark says. He shifts around a lot, the box spring squeaking as he gets comfortable. 

“You’ve got to stop disappearing on us,” Mark continues when Yuta doesn’t answer.

God. This is exactly what Yuta didn’t want.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Mark snorts. “Oh, dude. Oh, man. Shut up.”

“I don’t.”

“I said shut up. Let me tell you why you’re dumb.”

Not a very enticing deal. Whatever. Yuta sighs, but keeps his mouth shut.

“Good,” Mark says. “Listen. You know I like you, man, you know I love you. Jesus. Do you hear me? Obviously I care about you, but you’re being such an asshole. We’ve been giving you space, but this has gone too far. You’re self-destructing and no one wants to see it.”

“Then don’t watch,” Yuta mutters, his mouth tasting bitter.

Mark swats at his shoulder, but it doesn’t hurt. “Yeah, you don’t  _ owe _ anyone anything, but it hurts us all to watch you hurt and not know how to help. Even Jungwoo’s all caught up in your shit and he doesn’t even know about it.”

His heart jolts painfully. Jungwoo and Mark are close so Yuta’s not sure why his roommate hasn’t spilled that he knows a lot more than he should. Does Mark even know what Jungwoo said?

“I just think,” Mark says, slow, like he’s not sure  _ what _ he thinks, “I think you should give us all a chance to make it better. We know you miss him, but. I mean, we all miss him, but I know you miss him  _ more _ , or, like,  _ differently _ . Bro, just let us all back in. Taeyong looks like he’s gonna  _ cry _ .”

That’s...doubtful, but the hyperbole is appreciated for its intent. 

“Don’t you think I’ve humiliated myself enough?” Yuta asks.

“You’re supposed to be able to be embarrassing around your friends,” Mark says, “what else would you have them for?”

“I don’t know how to act around anyone anymore.”

Mark hums. “Well, maybe you can start by not calling anyone Sicheng’s name anymore.”

“Oh, would that be a good start?” Yuta asks, rolling his eyes.

Mark laughs, loud, and there’s no way that Yuta won’t have to get up now that whoever else is in the apartment has heard him. He’s going to kill Mark one day.

_ One day _ may become  _ today _ when Mark convinces him to come out of the bedroom, only to be caught in the middle of a miniature social gathering in Taeyong’s tight-ass sweatpants that expose too much of Yuta’s ankles. Yuta cuts Mark a dirty look when he sees Jaehyun there, and flat out stops breathing when Jungwoo steps out of the kitchen, holding a mug in his hand.

“You’re up!” Johnny crows, standing from the couch. “Great, now Taeyong doesn’t have to sleep in my bed tonight.”

“Bet he will anyway,” Mark quips.

Johnny smacks the side of Mark’s head on his way past, slipping between him and Yuta to go into his own room.

“I made tea,” Jungwoo says, his voice gently cutting through Yuta’s tornado thoughts. 

Yuta stares at him, unsure of what to say -- if he even can say anything with the rest of them around without embarrassing himself any more than he already has. But Jungwoo looks uncertain himself, holding a mug in both hands, his shoulders hunched.

“Can I have some?” Yuta asks.

Mark hums approvingly at Jungwoo’s nod and pats Yuta’s back before all but shoving him toward the kitchen.

Jungwoo busies himself with making Yuta a cup of tea, his back turned to him. Neither of them say anything. Time ticks down as the space in the kitchen seems to shrink, and Yuta knows that this is it, that they’ll have to talk about it now or pretend it never happened.

The other man must think the same thing. He turns, bobbing the tea bag in and out of the hot water a few times before he passes a second mug to Yuta. Yuta checks the paper tab dangling from the string. His favorite. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Jungwoo says. “I don’t usually act like that, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Yuta says. He steps closer to Jungwoo, setting the mug down on the counter again when his fingers feel too hot to hold it. “I know you didn’t mean to...um.”

“I hate seeing you upset,” Jungwoo says, his words falling out faster than before. “You have a really beautiful smile.”

_ God _ . Jungwoo has no right to be talking about beautiful anything, not with how stunning he looks standing in Taeyong’s simple kitchen, bags under his eyes and hair falling flat. He somehow manages to be pretty even when he’s clearly exhausted. And is that Yuta’s fault? Guilt shoots through his chest.

“I don’t want you to cry anymore,” Jungwoo continues when Yuta doesn’t reply. “I want you to be happy. He made you happy, right? I can make you happy, too.”

Jungwoo’s lips pressed to his are enough to make Yuta forget his own name.

The younger man studies Yuta’s face intently when they part. Yuta thinks he’s spent so long only focusing on his own embarrassing actions that he missed the nerves that Jungwoo emits when they’re alone together. Now, he notices how he twists his fingers around each other, gaze flickering from Yuta’s eyes to his lips, down to his chest, back to his eyes again.

Yuta cups his palms over Jungwoo’s elbows, rubs his thumb over his soft skin.

“I don’t want you to be him,” Yuta says and he means it.

“Okay,” Jungwoo says. His voice is so quiet. Yuta wants to know what it’s like when he lets go of his inhibitions while sober. He wonders if he can get him to tell him a story with that weird, cutesy baby voice he sometimes lets escape. 

“What’s your major, again?” Yuta asks suddenly.

Jungwoo blinks at him, his eyes big and surprised. Yuta can’t help but smile, squeezing his elbows to encourage an answer.

“I, uh, I’m undeclared. History, maybe, or anthropology.”

“That’s cool,” Yuta murmurs. “I feel like I don’t know much about you.”

“You’re really busy.”

“Not too busy for friends. Now.”

“Oh,” Jungwoo says. His lips twist downward. “Friends.”

“For now,” Yuta says. “Is that okay?”

Jungwoo seems to consider this, pursing his lips out as he looks off to the side. Yuta waits patiently, unable to stop smiling.

“Okay,” Jungwoo decides finally, “for now.”

Yuta laughs, and rubs his hands over Jungwoo’s biceps, nodding. “For now. Do you want to go home?”

“Mm. No,” Jungwoo says, “let’s stay.”

Yuta agrees easily with the way Jungwoo smiles, lets him kiss his cheek and hug him before they step back out into the living room. Jungwoo settles on the couch with Jaehyun and Mark, playing a video game, and Yuta hangs back to watch him offer advice for winning the level they’ve started over.

Taeyong catches his eye before long, looking curious, but Yuta will fill him in later. They have a lot to catch up on. It’ll be difficult, and might hurt a bit, but Yuta’s used to the hurting part. 

He’s ready for what comes next.

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think!! :)


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